


Heartbeat

by HelloDean



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Frostiron angst, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Post Mpreg, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:46:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloDean/pseuds/HelloDean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's in bed, and Tony is asleep in the other room with their son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeat

Tony rested his hand on the small head, and felt the short, soft tufts between his fingers. The baby stirred, opening his mouth wide, his forehead scruntching with the might of that tiny yawn. The soft pink lips smacked, and the eyelids peeled up slowly, shifting slowly until they focused the face above them. 

Tony stroked the little forehead with his thumb, the baby grunting at the sensation at the warm calluses, then cooing. Tony smiled, a warm glow infusing his face and making all the wrinkles fall away, and the baby grinned, and shrieked at Tony, reaching for him insistently. 

Tony laughed quietly, shushing the baby as he brought both arms inside the crib, picking him up carefully. He brought the baby against his chest, Alexandar cooing as he was lifted up and out. He held him, and swayed back and forth, gazing in adoration at this source of joy and love. Bringing the baby higher, he put his ear on top of the little heart, and left it there, letting the quiet beats sooth his soul, the soft breathing wash his fears away. 

Little hands brushed Tony's hair, and Tony closed his eyes, little tingles going all over his skull as the baby gripped his hair loosely. They stayed like that a long time, Alex's hands stirring and tightening in his hair, Tony's mind eventually quieting and slowing. 

The hands fell from his hair, and he raised his head carefully. The baby's eyes were closed, his breathing slowed and coming out in little huffs, like miniature snores. 

"Tired, little man?" he murmured quietly, watching the baby's eyelids flicker softly, dreaming what little babies dream. Tony slowly put the baby down in the crib, sliding his arms out from underneath. The baby sighed in his sleep, and Tony froze. When nothing else happened, he finished removing his arms, and stepped back, gazing on the sleeping form of his son. His son. 

He was always a little amazed whenever he remembered this. It had always been something that was for other people, having babies, being in committed relationships. 

But look at him now. 

He backed up, and sat down gingerly in the leather chair next to the small fireplace. He sat back, groaning softly, and pulled a knit green blanket from the basket next to him. He drew it up to his shoulders, then burrowed his arms underneath it. "G'night, Alex." he whispered, the flames reflecting in his eyes before his lids drooped, and he nodded off. 

* * * * * * * 

Jarvis' polite but firm tone woke him a little later.

"Sir, you must awaken." Tony stirred, frowning. "Not now, Jarv." he slurred, bringing the blanket over his head. 

"Sir, it's Alexandar. There's something wrong." 

Tony got up, the blanket barely touching the floor before he was across the room, gripping the rim of the crib. Alex fussed in his sleep, his legs kicking the sheets, his hands curling and uncurling. 

“Alex?” Tony murmured worriedly.

He put his hand on Alex’s forehead again, then cradled it in both hands as the little body shook more violently. “Alex!” he exclaimed, panic firing through him. “LOKI!” he screamed as the baby started seizing. His hands shook as he tore the side of the crib off, and he got down on his knees, arms outstretched to hold Alex down, but he was scared to touch him, what if- and Loki appeared. 

“What’s w-” Loki gasped, and raced to the crib, terror on his face to match Tony’s own. His hands glowed green, and Tony moved over, wringing his hands so tightly they were turning white. Loki held his hand over the baby’s chest, and a green spell raced all over Alex's body, stopping on his forehead. The seizing stopped, and Alex went silent, the froth from his mouth sliding down his cheeks. 

Loki froze, and Tony stopped breathing. Loki spoke in a frenzy, green sparks flying as he feverishly uttered spells. One entered his chest, another went down his throat, and his hands roamed Alex’s head, and he frowned fiercely with his closed, searching. Alex lay silent and non-responsive, uttering no shrieks, his eyes closed. 

“Alex...” Tony sobbed, grabbing the baby’s hand, and squeezing it softly. The room fell silent as Loki stopped, and his hands dropped onto the sheets, clenching them tightly. Tony leaned forward, and put his ear on Alexandar’s chest. There was no heartbeat.

“Aneurysm.” Loki whispered, his face crumpling. And then Loki dissolved. 

Falling forward, he scrabbled at Tony’s back, trembling with loss.

“No,” he sobbed, and the fog suddenly lifted, and Tony felt it too. The emptiness in his heart. The crushing, devastating loss. He wept, tears landing on the soft blue shirt, and turned away. He sat up, snatching Loki's shirt in a tight grip.

“Do something!” he screamed, shaking Loki. Loki hung his head, tears dripping to the floor, and Tony let go, his vision clouding again. “No...” he moaned, clutching his face. “Alex,” he sobbed, leaning forward and putting his head on Loki’s shoulder. Loki embraced him tightly, and sobbed into Tony’s hair.

* * * * * * * 

Tony put the lid on the last box marked “Baby Shoes” and sat down, staring at Pepper’s careful handwriting.

He got lost in his thoughts as he ran his thumb over the side of one of the last pairs of shoes. He took off the lid, uncertainty filling him. Maybe just one thing to remember him by? He stared at the shoe, and set it down next to the box. He ground his palms into his eyesockets, his aching eyes no longer able to tear. 

Picking the shoe up again, he placed it softly in the box. Grabbing the sharpie off the cart, he scrawled a “For Sale:” above it. He wouldn't throw them away. Maybe he could donate the money to something. Getting up, he capped the pen, and walked out, leaving the box for Dummy to take down.


End file.
